


Written Promises

by vaultbug



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Childhood, F/F, Fluff, Rulebreaking, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:41:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23976157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaultbug/pseuds/vaultbug
Summary: “You shouldn’t do that,” she said instead.Above her, Catra stuck her tongue out and dangled off the side of the pipes, hands behind her head; her legs were the only thing stopping her from braining herself on the ground. “What’s the matter, Adora?” she giggled. ““Are you scared?”--Catra and Adora sneak away from Shadow Weaver for a day. Catra wants to show Adora something.
Relationships: Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 56





	Written Promises

She was never allowed in the Inners. 

Adora knew it was forbidden. There was the heavily guarded playground area just for kids, a part of the city built exactly for children to sneak off from home and play in. The folks in the guarded areas were simple, bitter. They held no menace towards her or Weaver; only an ill-fear that had them trembling and mumbling whenever the sorceress strutted about. But the Inners, the one Shadow Weaver demanded Adora to remain out of, was unguarded. The people there were cold, wrathful. They held violence as a problem-solver, a solution. Weaver wanted Adora to have no part in that lifestyle.

_ Savages,  _ she had scoffed.  _ You stay in the playground, Adora, or they will gut you. _

There had always been an appeal to the Inners though. Adora knew the place was crooked, as twisted in spirit as it was filthy. But the idea of running away and hiding, of disobeying Shadow Weaver, had made the Inners a well-dreamed fantasy, enticing to the point where she stood sometimes at the line trespassing into Inner territory to  _ long  _ for that unknown. A few kids she knew did venture in; but when they came back they were full of false bravado, never to return to the trespassing line ever again.

Catra was the only one she knew who wasn’t afraid of the Inners.

So when Catra had invited Adora to go for a  _ little walk  _ outside and lead her past the trespassing line, Adora had leapt for the invitation as if it was entrance to the Academy. A day away from the grip of Shadow Weaver seemed like fiction, a daydream she could not quite grasp. The Inners seemed nothing more than a gate to a world of endless possibilities.

_ No more Weaver.  _ The words felt unreal.

But now, standing on the ground below Catra and flinching at every loud noise, Adora wanted nothing more than to go home. Folks glared when they passed and Adora felt small, just like under the glare of Weaver. Catra dragged her along though, insisting ‘ _ I found something you’ll like, Adora’.  _ She had let this go on long enough just to sate Catra’s nagging, but now a small part of her wished she had stayed back in their normal playgrounds. At least Shadow Weaver was there.

( _ At least Shadow Weaver was there,  _ her mind mocked.)

“You shouldn’t do that,” she said instead.

Above her, Catra stuck her tongue out and dangled off the side of the pipes, hands behind her head; her legs were the only thing stopping her from braining herself on the ground. “What’s the matter, Adora?” she giggled. ““Are you scared?”

Adora bit her lip and glared back up at her friend. “I am not!” she snapped back.

But Catra had triumph shining in her eyes and a smirk on her lips, which spelt only loss for her. “Scaredy-cat,” she teased and leaned in to bop Adora’s nose. “Scaredy. Little. Cat.”

“I’m not scared!” But the teasing wouldn’t stop, she knew. Adora relented to Catra’s mockery by stepping closer. “Come  _ on _ , Catra, help me up.”

“I’m taller than you now though,” Catra sang softly. “I like it.”

“ _ Catra _ .”

Gentle giggles. They softened her, but Adora was still annoyed and fearful of the way the shadows crept on the Inner walls. She wanted to be  _ next  _ to Catra, but the height… Adora glanced up into the shadows of the vents and shuddered a little. “Are you sure I won’t fall?”

“Pfft, you’ll be fine.” Catra clicked her tongue. Adora squinted to her friend in distrust and Catra raised an arm to cross her chest twice. “I promise. My honour as Fright Zone Scum.”

“As if!”

_ Promise. _

“Then...Can you please let me up?” Something at the alley entrance rustled, and Adora glared back at her friend. “I’ll beat you up if you don’t.”

“Like you could.”

The sounds at the foot of the alley grew closer. Footsteps. Definitely footsteps. Adora stomped her foot and raised her hand. “Come _ on,  _ Catra.” She pleaded. “Please.”

Catra blinked, then laughed quietly. “Fine, scaredy-cat,” she teased. There was an edge to her words -- she must’ve heard the advancing footsteps too. Both hands grabbed Adora’s to yank, and with that she was whisked into the shadow of the pipes.

Just in time too. 

A guard breached the alley’s entrance, shoulders low and listening quietly. Her mouth was set in a line and, as she advanced into the alley, Adora noticed the multitude of weapons lining her belt. Many more weapons than the playground guards. Probably she was sent by Weaver, no doubt about that. Or maybe a rogue. Adora couldn’t tell.

She was going to watch more but Catra hit her on the shoulder lightly. “Come on, this way,” her best friend hissed before hoisting herself up onto another platform. Adora followed to the best of her ability -- she begrudgingly admitted her friend was much more graceful than her feeble attempts to climb. The guard gradually faded into the lowers, forgotten in the mix of pipes and small platforms.

“What are you going to show me, anyways?” Adora called up. 

Catra above her snorted. “What, impatient to see?” her friend sniped back, blowing a raspberry. Adora blew one back and her friend cackled from above. “Just wait. One more platform.”

“Alright.”

It was not one more platform; it was two, and the second one required Catra to yank Adora up again. Her friend snorted as she did so, and Adora felt her ears grow red as her friend poked her in the ribs when she found footing. “Slowpoke,” she jibbed.

“You’re part cat,” Adora huffed. “Slinky.”

“Ay, ay, I’m just more flexible is all.” Catra made a show of stretching, then frowned as something cracked. Adora felt the corners of her mouth twitch and her friend must’ve saw, for Catra’s ears drooped into a position Adora knew well as ‘ About-To-Tease-Non-Stop ’. 

She interrupted hastily. “So? Why are we here?”

The ears perked back up. “Oh, well, I wanted us here to, uh --” and Catra coughed. “You know how Weaver always, well, erases our bunker?”

_ Erases. _ More like removed. Shadow Weaver had a nasty habit of exchanging bunkers, cleansing their shared quarters from graffiti and scratched words between them. Adora had asked, pleaded for her to stop but Weaver insisted on it. It was  _ wrecking  _ the perfectly good bed, perfectly good wall, she always said. No graffiti. No words.

“Yeah,” Adora answered. “And?”

“Well,” and Catra gestured for her to follow. Adora did so, cautiously. “I wanted us to go to this place. Make our mark.”

“Make our --?”

Catra leaned aside and Adora saw.

Thousands of marks were engraved on the wall. Names, dates, phrases. Some were carved, others pressed into the wall by hot iron and burnt there forever. Some were not so fancy -- consisting of black marks. A few looked like pencil. What they were made of didn’t matter in the long run, for all of them were untouched, a relic in the ever-changing tunnels of the Fright Zone. Adora stared and saw the history of the Fright Zone, marked all the way to where the tops of their heads were. 

( _ The Fright Zone hasn’t changed at all _ , a small voice whispered in her head.)

“Catra,” she finally said.

“Old graffiti grounds,” Catra said - - and it sounded almost shy, the way the words trickled off her tongue. Adora turned to see her friend’s eyes latched onto a single carving, avoiding hers. “Weaver never saw this one. I doubt even Hordak knows. It’s ours. We can,” and she gave a small wave to the hundreds of people before them. “You know. Make our mark?”

Something welled in her;  _ joy _ . She seized Catra’s hand before it retreated to her side, and practically lifted her off her feet. “Can we?” she asked, but the words came out more like an announcement, a shared delight. “It’s beautiful, Catra.”

Catra beamed. Then, blinking, corrected herself to a sly smile. “Of course it is,” she stammered; but the damage had been done already with the previous smile, and her eyes avoided Adora’s as if infected. She did not let go of Adora’s hand though. “What should we say?”

“Catra is the sappiest best friend.”

“I will push you,” Catra threatened, but it was hollow. She pondered for a few, and her ears twitched. “How about...we each say our vow for the future? You know. A dream.”

“Still sappy,” Adora teased but there was no heat to it. “Let’s do it.”

Catra smiled at her, and brought out her knife.

* * *

Someone was up to no good.

The scratch of a knife rang in the air, a noise that grated at the guard’s ears as she stood below. Barely audible over the hum of engines, it sung a stinging song -- but the guard had been at this spot for many a year and knew the sounds of the Fright Zone intimately enough to hear it. She could hear the slash, the dulling of the wall over grinding engines and hissing steam. The noise irritated her, brought her teeth into a snarl. 

_ Punks. _

She did not crawl up the vents to stop them, however. They would come down eventually; every kid came down in the end to face their consequences of their actions. Plus, graffiti was common. The guard saw it everywhere and she had done some herself in the past. It really wasn’t hurting anyone if it was up in the pipes. But she had to set an example of enforcement. The guard waited under the pipes, and listened for the brats.

She was greeted by a giggle.

A familiar giggle, matter of fact. High-pitched and subtle, it tore her to the ground. The laugh was Adora, no doubt. The guard faltered, fell in line. If it was Adora, she didn’t dare to scorn her. Shadow Weaver had a tight grip over that girl, and she wasn’t about to mess with that line of command. 

And where Adora was, Catra was too. It must be some rebellious scheme of the both. The guard felt a bit of pride for them, a bit of sadness. Poor kids. Must be tired of Weaver. Almost everyone in the Fright Zone was.

She hid in another alley, listening and waiting; eventually, the two mischievous kids dropped their way down to the ground. They scampered off quickly, footsteps cheerful and bright against the whine of machinery. When they fell away, she returned slowly and cautiously to the original spot.

She looked up. The pipes lingered quiet, inviting. Curiosity overtook her. The guard carefully, slowly, hoisted her way up to where the kids had been. 

The fresh graffiti was easy to spot. Twin pairs of promises, etched in the wall, forever to stay. One was in Weaver font, stylized like she’d been taught directly from the sorceress. Adora. The other was scrawled, hasty in their desire to get it out. Catra.

_ To stay with my best friend,  _ Adora’s read.  _ To stay with Adora,  _ the other said.

The guard sniffed, and traced the freshly marked carvings of the wall. The edges were still sharp. Then, she rubbed her nose and smiled. 

Heh. Sweet of the kids.

**Author's Note:**

> This was part of a 2019 SPOP zine I forgot I had in my drafts. ^^ Childhood friends Catra and Adora will always gut me.


End file.
